Brute

A person walks in and gently lays aside the mask he wears; that of a carefree and booze-loving mage and sighs. Tass, I am sorry that you've had to go through something like this. It's hard, I know. I'm still trying to cope with the recent divorce of my wife for 8 years. I've found that nothing takes the pain away altogether, but there are ways to help get me through each day. I laugh with my daughter. I work hard at both jobs I have. I read when I can. These few things do allow me to escape the pain that lingers. But what helped me most of all, what allowed me to finally rest my anger and bitterness, was to accept it. Love is a hard road to travel, and even the most hardy of us can sometimes stumble and fall. As much as it hurts to do so, as impossible as it seems, we get up, take a deep breath, and travel on. The road may seem lonely and terribly wearisome at times, but I, for one, cannot accept the fact that I will travel by myself forever. I understand about hope. Hope can keep you going at times, but be careful not to let it blind you to other possibilities, Tass. Possibilities happen every day. And above all else, do not allow self pity to drive you into depression. It does no good. Find something to laugh at or someone to laugh with, but realize that life will keep trudging along, with or without you. Ya might as well hop on the wagon as it's rolling past and take the ride. I'm not sure what else I should say. My own life fell apart recently, the absolute worst had happened, but I've managed to put a positive look on it. I am determined to make the best of what has been given to me. That's all that we can do, my friend. Pick yourself up and dust off your knees. The sky is gray and full of clouds, the road sodden and hard to travel, but over the next rise it may very well become dry and pleasant again. Go see if that's so. The fellow smiles to Tass and places a hand upon his shoulder, then slowly places the bald and pale mask back upon his face. Brute blinks at Tass, then with a wink, pulls out a hidden flask and sips from it. "Good stuff!"

Vlad- I'm not sure what particular you chuckled at if and when you thought of something I said or wrote, but if it granted you a moment of escape from the sometimes heavy chains of life that burden us all, then I am glad to be of service. Brute bows. I seem to think that you have within you a deep reserve of wisdom. I also think that the quote you mentioned merely echoes your own thoughts, for you sound like someone who is willing to brave the hardships of life for no other reason than to be there at that one special moment when someone else, lost in gloom, needs a beacon to light their way. Peredhil said as much with a bit more brevity and a tad more concise than me, I'm afraid. It makes me glad that in your time of need, you have found a light to guide you in the community that is the Pen. We are more than writers and poets, I think. We are friends that listen and understand. I think everyone here has had troubled times behind them, and I can guarantee that every single person here will have more yet to come. Such is life. But it's the glorious time between, when your heart knows contentment, and it will, trust me, and your head swims with brilliant ideas, for they will come, then will we embrace the possibilities life has to offer, good or bad, with courage in us. Bad things happen to us humans, I'm sorry to say. However, great things happen just as often. The Pen is one of the great things. That signature I have is something I made up a long time ago when I was alone, it seemed, in the darkness of despair. Then I realized that it gets better by pushing past the bad parts and soaking up the warm days full of sunshine and laughter. If none of this has made any sense to you, I apologize. I ramble a bit, you see. But do remember one thing above all: keep hold of your sense of humor and apply it to most everything in life. It does no good to cry in despair, but laughter....that will lift your soul. One last parting note....the Pen is richer with your presence. Don't deprive us of that. Keep yer chin up.

Woo-Hoo! Happy Birthday, Alaeha!! Brute rolls out keg after keg of booze and sets up tables full of mugs. As an afterthought, the pale, bald mage adds a large birthday cake in the center of the table. "Any underage members or guests shall surrender their share of booze to me...." Brute announces with a grin. (Happy birthday, kiddo! Hope it's a grand one! )

Corina knelt there with her hands pressed to her eyes as the morning sun began it's slow rise into the eastern sky. She could not imagine how this thing had happened. It was a nightmare, to be sure, but dreams did not take on the forms of flesh. It could not be! Yet, deep within her mind, she could feel something, a foul presence far away that held some link to her. From that link, she could almost feel...no. She pulled her hands from her face and shook her head, her long brown hair falling past her dark eyes as she did. She refused to acknowledge the strange feelings that glimmered from the bond she held with the beast. The stabbing pain of guilt burst into her heart as her eyes swept through the devastated village. With a choked cry, she stumbled to her feet and fled back to her house, tears streaking her tanned cheeks. Corina dashed into the house and locked her door. She cowered in a shadowed corner on her bed with her knees drawn up to her chest and trembled. "What have I done?" she whispered to herself, over and over, like a mantra to ward off the images of the villagers, people she had grown up with, laying broken and torn in the morning light. Slowly, a new fear crept insiduously into her tormented mind: the survivors of the attack would find out who had caused this. They would come for her and demand justice be paid for releasing the horror that was unleashed upon them. Corina sat in the corner of her bed pitifully as she wondered if she didn't deserve whatever justice they decided to pass upon her. Cries of anguish from the scattered few alive reached her ears and became cries of anger and revenge. And so Corina sat in her house, alone and terrified. It was sometime in the late morning after that night of darkness and death that Corina finally made up her mind what she would do. She would flee the village and whatever justice she knew she deserved. Corina could still feel the awful link pulsing faintly within her, like a throbbing pain of infection, that she knew was the demon's ties to her. Somehow, she would confront the beast and...Corina had no idea what she would do then. She felt only that was what she must do. She had somehow unleased the thing upon the world, and she had to find some way to stop it before returning to face the punishment for her crime. With that thought steeling her nerve, Corina woodenly got up from the corner and began to slowly pack food and a few changes of clothes. Slinging her pack upon her shoulder and pulling a heavy cloak around her, Corina took a sturdy staff and set out. With one last, sad look upon the village, she turned and began out through the light forest that stood near the back of her house, away from the village. For more than an hour she walked before stopping to rest briefly. Turning north, she could vaguely feel the demon far away through the link with it. Corina set off, determined to see her task through, however it may end.

Umm....hullo there! I suppose I could stop by and greet you as well. Welcome to the Pen. No need to tell you about the unique characters within. You'll find out soon enough, I think. Brute pours the fellow a large mug of dangerously powerful booze and grins.

As Tamaranis touched upon, it's about writing a story, only with help from friends, who add interesting twists and plot turns. These elements are what makes a collaborative effort worthwhile; the other involved writers challenge each other, but in a way that adds to the story as a whole, rather than an individual's character. Keep that point in mind, and the rest will come in good time. The story will unfold......

(OOC: this story is based loosely upon a dream I had years ago. It was a frightening dream in that it said something dark about my persona. Should anyone wish to add to it, by all means, I invite you. However, please make an ooc thread elsewhere so that details of the story can be discussed. This simply helps in keeping the thread flowing. ) The last rays of light settled upon the thatched roof of a small house, set apart from others like it. It stood back in the valley, nestled in the treeline and had a view of the small community below. Beside the house a low rock wall enclosed a garden full of blooming flowers and fragrant herbs. A young woman knelt there among the plants and flowers, gathering her tools in the failing light. She stood and brushed the dirt from the knees of her worn pants. Corina disliked wearing the dresses that the women of the village wore, a fact that had caused plenty of arguments with her mother before she died. Inside the house, Corina finished her evening meal in solitude and prepared for bed. Her thoughts echoed the conversations she had had with her mother as she closed her eyes and recalled her face. A sigh escaped her lips as she drifted off to sleep. She stood in the middle of a bare room, the walls and floor were made from a darkly polished wood. In one wall, an open window offered a view of open sky, giving her the sense that she was far above the ground floor of wherever she was. "What is this place?" she wondered aloud. She nervously walked towards the window when a voice answered her. "Why, it is you, in a sense." Corina gasped and whirled around, but saw no one. "Do not be afraid," the disembodied voice spoke inside her head, calming her. "I am her to guide you. youmay ask of me certain questions, for I am bound to answer what I am allowed." Corina nodded in acceptance to the statement. "Where am I? This seems like a dream," she said. "Indeed, you are dreaming. This place is a place of your making, and you are now ready to face some od what lies within." The voice was calm and neutral in tone. "Come, we have much to see." Sensing where it was she was supposed to go, she took a single step. The bare room spun for a moment, then was still, leaving her in another room, similar in the polished wooden floors and walls, but not entirely. She looked around and noticed several corners were covered in deep shadows and this room lacked a window. She had a sense that she had gone to a lower level in the house. Corina's dark eyes fixed on the shadows, a shiver running through her as she asked," Why are there shadows in here? What do they mean to me?" The voice seemed to have a smile to it's answer, though she could not see anything. "These are parts of yourself that you cannot acknowledge yet, or that you have hidden from yourself. In time, these shadows may lift, revealing passages unknown to you at the moment. Let us proceed." Corina appeared suddenly in several more rooms, twice entering a long hallway, filled with shadows that seemed to lay along the wall and floor like great puddles of black ink, obscuring her view. The guide always led her around these areas, cautioning against going into them. At one room, Corina saw a huge, gaping hole torn into the floor. Along the edge of the hole, the boards were shattered and ripped. With a detached interest, she moved to the hole, trying to peer into into it's depths. Her view was blocked by more shadows, spread across the hole like a black sheet. Corina asked her guide, "What is that?" "It will be revealed soon," the voice whispered into her mind. "Come, we near the end." Corina passed through many more rooms and found that if she thought about the strange hole, she would enter another room below that contained a similar jagged hole in the floor. She sensed that they were all directly above one another in space. Corina noticed that as she descended into the depths of the house, the shadows grew more and more frequent. Suddenly, she stood in what appeared to be a basement. The voice spoke to her once more in an almost worried tone. "You have reached what it was you were drawn here for. You must pass this last part, or it will consume you." Just as Corina could somehow feel the presence of the unseen guide, she now felt it's absence. Before her, a huge throne, made from bleached bones and skulls, sat in the middle of the room. Reddish light cast from the flames of an open hearth danced along the grim throne. Upon it sat a beast beyond imagine. Blood-red skin was pulled tight over it's heavily muscled frame and bat-like wings of the deepest black spread evilly from behind it's broad and powerful shoulders. In one black-taloned hand, it held a sceptre that glowed a golden hue, the other held a black book. The beast had a demonic face and was terrible to behold. Large tusks jutted from it's lower lips and it's fell gaze swept across Corina in anger. In that moment, both the glowing sceptre and the book vanished from it's hands. It leaped up and roared at her, it's very voice sending knives of pain into Corina and numbing her mind. Her eyes rolled back into her head as she struggled to remain conscious through the onslaught of it's unearthly shout. Her vision failed her as the pain swept though her body like fire. Yet for a brief moment, a fuzzy, illegible word, glowing bright yellow, sprang up into her mind. Before she could focus on it, the demon silenced it's raging voice. Corina gasped and staggered. The demon leered at her, as if waiting some answer to it's challenge. Before she could respond in any way, the stabbing pain returned as the demon once more shouted in anger at her. Corina felt she would be crushed from the power the demon's voice contained. Fire raced through her, boiling her blood as the beast's voice stretched on and on. Her head throbbing from unbearable pain, Corina's vision failed her again. As darkness fell over her eyes, she saw once more the glowing word that had escaped her before. Only this time, it appeared to her larger and more clearly. She could read the word and knew that it was a name. Abruptly, the waves of pain from the beast;s voice died. Corina had been paralyzed with terror and pain and her body now screamed for air as she gasped and filled her lungs through clenched teeth. Again the demon leered at her, awaiting something from her. Corina knew that she could not survive another onslaught of the terrible sound. With desparation, she cried out the name she had seen in her mind's eye through a ragged and hoarse voice. She held little hope that would help her. The beast's glaring eyes went wide with outrage and shock. It's mouth fell open a bit, revealing rows of long, gleaming teeth.In startled fury, it leaned forward in it's grim throne and roared at Corina. The house shook and moaned in protest of such power, but Corina was completely unharmed. She had passed the test. Corina spoke low, but in a commanding tone to the beast, and it's terrible wails were cut off as she did so. "Leave!" she commanded to the creature. In a snarl of rage, the beast lept up and unfurled it's great wings. It shot up above the throne and Corina noticed then that all of the dark shafts she had seen throughout the house led down to an opening above the throne. The house shook violently as the beast fled, then suddenly, it was deadly still. Corina knew the beast had left the house. She awoke tangled in her bedsheets and drenched in sweat, her heart racing as the nightmare ended. Before she could calm herself from the horrifying dream, a cold sense of dread passed through her like an icy wind. Cries and screams of anquish were drifting up from the village below. Corina pulled on her clothes and raced down towards the village, her sense of dread and fear growing with every step. She saw houses torn apart and crushed, like a great storm had swept through the village while she slept. Bodies of the villagers lay broken and scattered, while the few living that remained bent over them, weeping and crying."No, no! What has happened?" she cried out as she reached the outermost house. It laid flat, the walls and roof smashed in, as if under the force of a great hammer from the gods themselves. An old man carrying the body of a child turned to her in reply. His voice sounded hollow. "A great demon came in the night, terrible in it's fury, and beset the village. None could stop it or even harm the creature. It destroyed everything. Everything." The man looked at Corina blankly for a moment, then turned and shuffled away, the small figure in his arms hanging limp. Corina felt panic surge in her, threatening to overwhelm her. "What have I done?" she cried to herself. "What evil have I unleashed?" Corina sank to her knees as the bright rays of the morning sun crept into the ruin of the village.

Hmmm...I'm kinda like Wyvern in a way. Many, many who have come before me have claimed to be drunkards, so I am not unique in that aspect. However, I doubt any of them have the desire and fervor that I contain to seek out booze of all flavors and consume it. I have yet to meet another that can boast of my stamina when it comes to the consumption of the greastest of all beverages; Booze. For it was unknown before me that anyone's liver left it's host body in pure disgust and contempt of the person's alcoholic tendencies. And lastly, but certainly not the least of my unique characteristics, is my greastest single achievement, the creation of that most prized artifact, the Decanter of Endless Booze. In short, I'm the greast boozehound Terra has ever known, bar none.

thanky, thanky! I think that I'll read this to her as part of her birthday present. (Coming up soon!)

Brute smiles as he hands the newcomer a mug of frothy booze. "Oh, I wouldn't worry too much about the order of things around here. True, we prefer people to apply, but it is a free forum, available to any who wish to share their thoughts or writings." With one darkened hand, Brute gently pats Seii on the shoulder while the other hand removes the untouched mug from Seii's grasp. "Although I haven't added any comment on your poems, I did find them to be quite good, in my humble opinion. As to your question of whether you would have to provide another literary example for the application, I believe the answer is yes. Wyvern's a stickler for that sort of thing. Don't despair. I have every confidence you'll do well with the application." Brute flashes a smile from his pale, white face and drains the mug of booze, then wanders away towards the tavern. edit: Oh, I especially liked Battlecry.

ok.. brevity aside.. here's my interpretation as I mentioned in irc. The stones seem to symbolize striife and anger that is found throughout all of humanity. That they exist for almost eternity endlessly opposed to one another seems to show that such vulgarities are also ever- present within us. Wisdom from the bottom of the bottle, mind you.

forgive me for the brevity of my praise, but...incredible, Wyvern!

Heh, heh.. I like that poem Lanzer! What ever inspired you to write about Grandma?

this by no means is anything equivalent to the works that are posted in here by the serious poets. I just wanted to post something to ...lighten the mood somewhat. I've been thinking of doing so for a while and it was recently mentioned elsewhere that that should be done in here, so....... My Angel Golden smiles and golden hair she perches upon my knee. Giggling, for she's in the lair of the Tickle Monster (that's me.) She laughs for me and sings a song; the words are never quite right. Who am I to say it's wrong for her performance is quite a sight. She lies sleeping now, an angel in repose. Guarding her dreams is Mr. Cow the stuffed animal with no toes. She is my greatest pride my muse, my daughter, my friend. My love for her I cannot hide For I'll always be her Poppy, to the end.

Hmm...lesse. Like many others in here.. I owe it to AM. I found Archmage through a random search during my first fays of being online. I had one or two names at the beginning (Math was one, for the wizard of legend), but none stuck. Shortly after beginning AM, I discovered the boards. Tzimm, Shurak, Joat, and a few others I believe Gyrfalcon mentioned were inspiring to me. So, I tossed out whatever current name I was using and came up with something short and sweet. I chose Brute because it was ironic in a personal sense. In reality, I am a physically imposing person. I can loom and intimidate VERY well. Although, typically, someone like that is stereotyped as dumb, and slow, which I am neither. I guess brute came about because I wanted to see if anyone would ever get to know me enough to ask why I chose such a name when it really doesn't fit, for you folks online don't see the physical part of me, but the mental and emotional. Someone did ask eventually, long after I'd forgotten why I chose the name. As to the Drunkard part of it...well, I used to be a sailor and spend vast amounts of time and money on booze. I also needed a gimmick to get recognotion in the AM boards, for I was shy and very reserved to writing anything. So along came the Decanter of Endless Booze. Only a master drunkard could be able to handle such an artifact and live to tell the tale. So there ya have it. Oh.. Jarom Stormbrow is simply a character I use from time to time to write with. I figured it sounds like a good dwarven name.

To add a bit on the good advice given, I would suggest that if you find people to play who are inexperienced llike yourself, go through the rules together. Decide how the rules will be interpreted as a group, but with the thought in mind that the rules are simply a guide. they are there to help progress the story, for that is what I've always tried to make the game to be: a story told by each of the participants. Starting up can be overwhelming sometimes, but a bit of patience helps. After you get the nuts and bolts of your characters down, begin to add flavor and background to give your characters personality. Trust me, a low-level character who has a great background and a few personality quirks is more fun to play and more memorable than a mid to high-level character who has one of every magical item and incredible stats. In summary, have fun. You and your friends use your imagination to tell stories with the characters you create.

The fellow above me is not only the Founder, but an admirable drunkard to boot. Toasts Ozy several times

The person above me is a blonde-haired German, apparently. Brute O Drunken One

The Person above me is often wonderfully spontaneous in IRC and can RP there splendidly! Brute O Drunken One

A blinding light pries open the ebony eyes of the unconscious form of Brute. A groan escapes his lips as he places a hand upon his pale, bald head. Brute slowly looked around in attempt to get his bearings, for he was quite disoriented, something he wasn't accustomed to despite the amount or quality of drink consumed. A bright beam of light poured through a cracked shutter into what appeared to be a large storage building. With half a grin, he suddenly remembered where he was. He quietly gathered his disheveled robes and made his way to the door. Peeking out into the harsh day, he determined no one was looking and slid outside. "I've probably missed the roll call, but perhaps I can still get there in time," he thought as his tall form moved swiftly through meandering crowds of people already settled into the new abode of the Pen. Brute pushed open a large wooden door and entered a chamber where a scribe sat bored at a desk. A pile of papers sat beside a inkwell on the table in front of him. As Brute approached the fellow to report in, he hoped that no one would notice the greatly reduced supply of alcohol for the tavern. Brute grinned once more and thought, "If so, I can always blame Wyvern." Reporting In! Brute Page of the Mighty Pen O Drunken One (Been busy lately, ya see.....had to end one path in life for a new, unexpected and hopefully better one! )